Conceal, Don't Feel
by Benny The Crazed Cartoonist
Summary: Belle gets sick and doesn't want Rumpelstiltskin to find out. So, naturally, he does. Obvious Rumbelle.


**This is my first attempt at a Rumbelle fanfiction. If I didn't quite get the characters correct, it may be because I only joined the fandom this Christmas. :) But please do tell me what I could do better for next time.**

**This was meant to take place during the beginning weeks of Belle's stay at the castle, when they were just beginning to warm up to each other. I really hope I got the interaction dynamics right. **

**Anyway, enough of my rambles. Please enjoy.**

* * *

From the moment Belle awoke, she knew it wasn't going to be a good day. It seemed the chill of the dark dungeon that served as her bedroom had seeped into her bones overnight, freezing her frame to the core. A dull ache reached from her toes to her skull, which pounded infuriatingly. Every time she swallowed, a hot rush of pain sparked from her throat. Her spine also throbbed, but she suspected that stemmed more from the hard straw she'd been given as a bed weeks ago.

She begrudgingly arose from bed, not allowing herself to moan with the soreness that plagued her muscles but wondering how, exactly, she'd gotten to feel this way. None of the cleaning she'd done yesterday had been particularly strenuous, so in theory she shouldn't really be hurting this much...

Her train of thought was derailed when her body was racked with dry, hard coughs that burned her throat much more than swallowing did. For a moment, she sat on the edge of her bed, chest rattling with every breath she took, and waited for the pain to ease. Then, very slowly, she closed her eyes in annoyance. Her body was not yet used to the cold basement of her 'employer's' castle. She must have taken ill.

Belle was not, however, about to let this deter her from her daily tasks. She highly doubted her master would take pity on her for something as trivial as a chill. He was not that type of fellow. So she forced herself to stand and dress, albeit in something warmer than her usual working gown, and to her relief, found a shawl in the dark corner of the box she called her wardrobe. Once ready, Belle quickly attempted to make herself look presentable in her little wall mirror. Though her hair looked fine, she frowned at the dark circles under her eyes. There was now no doubt about it. She was royally sick.

But, of course, she wasn't going to let Rumpelstiltskin figure that out.

Finally ready, she made her way out of her dungeon room and up the main staircase, into the expansive room where Rumpelstiltskin spent most of his days. He was already awake, sitting at his spinning wheel as usual. He was rarely away from it, that she had seen. He fed straw into the wheel and spun gold came away in his hands, as delicate as flower stems. He barely glanced up as Belle came in, but as she stepped to the large table to retrieve the tea set that sat on its silver tray, he growled, "Nice of you to finally awaken, dearie. And thank you so very much for not bawling as loudly last night as you normally do."

Belle opened her mouth to answer, but as she attempted to speak her voice squeaked pitifully, thankfully loud enough so only she could hear. She silently cursed her throat and instead curtsied wordlessly to her employer before picking up the tray and retreating to the kitchen. She didn't see when Rumpelstiltskin finally looked up at her, head tilted and eyebrows knotted over his dark eyes.

* * *

His keeper had been silent for hours now. This in itself was unusual, as normally she'd be full of comebacks and questions, delving into his deepest darkest secrets with no regards for neither his privacy nor authority. Today, however, her lack of vocals were combined with sluggish and rather clumsy movements. More than once she'd fumbled her duster or rag and the pretended nothing had happened; pretended he hadn't seen anything. Her motions were... curious.

The next time she stopped in his room, he stilled the wooden wheel and quiet settled on the house of the Dark One. After a moment or two, Belle finally stopped her work and peered at him questioningly. Rumpelstiltskin waited for her to ask why he'd stopped, but she said nothing. So he filled the silence. "Why so quiet, dearie? Cat got your tongue?" This was followed by a giggle, as he didn't want her to take the quip seriously. This earned a smile from her, but all she did was shake her head. Still she did not speak.

Though the smile sent something aflutter in his chest, Rumpelstiltskin still wondered why she did not simply answer him. "Your tongue does indeed work, does it not?"

She nodded again, then waited as if expecting him to say something more. Rumpelstiltskin did not, as he found he was prodding at something rather obvious. So, after a moment, Belle gave him a look bordering slightly concerned and returned to her polishing.

Now something a little less tolerable arose in Rumpelstiltskin. He stood suddenly, the scrape of his wooden stool making Belle turn, and with a wave of his hand froze her in place. He could see something akin to fear rise in her eyes, but he ignored it. She had quite plainly disobeyed an almost-direct order and she must be reprimanded, else she'd never make an acceptable servant. Slowly and deliberately, he strode up to her and only when his lips were rather close to her ear did he begin to speak in a scarily low tone. "It's not nice to give someone the silent treatment, dearie." His breath stirred the loose strands of hair by her face. "Now, I'm going to give you to the count of three. The first thing you will do when I release you is tell me what has been going through your pretty little head to make you believe you can insult the Dark One in such a manner. Understood?" Obviously, she couldn't answer. Freezing spells would to that to a person. "One. Two. Three."

With another wave of his hand, Rumpelstiltskin lifted the spell from Belle's body and she fell into a more natural position, though still, he noticed, closed off from him. She stared at him for seconds longer, and then she uttered, "was that really necessary?"

He recoiled a bit when she spoke, his half-mad mask fading into something like shock. Her normally soothing drawl was replaced by a scratching, painful tone, as if every word hurt. It must have, for after she voiced her sentence she coughed hard into her fist, turning her face away from him. On instinct, he reached forward in an attempt to comfort her in some way, but his gnarled hands never came into contact. He simply didn't know what to do.

Rumpelstiltskin settled for the one thing he did know how to do. Observe. "You sound awful." The tone was not meant to be kind, only matter-of-fact, with a slight sneer.

Belle waved him away with a vague gesture. "I'm fine." Her voice sounded no better than before.

Rumpelstiltskin rounded on her. "No, I don't think so. I think you've gotten sick." Now that the idea was planted in his head, he could see miniscule other hints of sickness clinging to Belle. Deep, dark circles settled heavily under her dull blue eyes. Her muscles were tense, as if she were cold, and her hands shook ever so slightly. But she still held her head high, too proud and stubborn to admit that she was, indeed, ill.

Rumpelstiltskin frowned at this rather idiotic show of bravery. "You could have said something." He recalled her throat. "Oh, wait! No, you couldn't! Nyeh!" This drew a small smile from Belle before she once again descended into a coughing fit and Rumpelstiltskin sobered. After a moment of listening, he turned back to his spinning wheel. "Go to bed, girl."

"Why, sir. Don't tell me you actually care about my well being." Though her words were quiet and rough, they were still filled with a gentle teasing.

Rumpelstiltskin ignored the guilty chill in his chest. "Not at all, dearie. I don't want you getting all my things infected." He righted his stool and sat back down at his wheel, beginning to spin again.

He saw Belle leave out of the corner of his eye and glanced up to see a flash of her retreating form. He turned his attention back to his straw, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.

* * *

Belle almost considered doing as Rumpelstiltskin instructed and heading back to her room to ease her sore body, but she halted at the staircase. No way was she going to slack off. Rumpelstiltskin suggesting she wasn't strong enough to continue working was a jibe at her durability, and Belle was just as determined and strong-minded as any man. If they could slave through sickness, so could she and the imp she worked for wasn't going to tell her otherwise.

Resisting the ever tempting offer of her bed, Belle retrieved her dustpan and broom from the closet in the hallway and set about sweeping areas of the castle out of Rumpelstiltskin's sensory range. She would show him.

* * *

Even the Dark One had to admit, it was oddly quiet without Belle's usual rummaging about. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to expect her incessant nosiness. His house seemed quite... empty with her in bed.

His eyes flicked almost involuntarily to the small glass globe that rested on one of the many pedestals surrounding him. When he caught himself staring, he quickly tore his gaze away, focusing again on his spinning. But once, twice, thrice more he discovered his sight landing on the sphere, only to chastise himself and return to his wooden wheel. Finally, on the fifth time, he heaved a heavy sigh. He was never going to get any work done if the help kept distracting him. May as well check once and be done with it.

Rumpelstiltskin passed one hand over the clear surface. "Show me Belle."

After allowing a moment for the ball to find its target, the swirling gray smoke cleared to reveal Belle, still cleaning.

A rush of disbelief was quickly swept away with irritation and Rumpelstiltskin growled low in his throat, eyes rolling. What did it take for this girl to get the hint? She wasn't a total idiot. No one who read that many books could be so.

A weak moan drew his attention back to the orb. Belle had ceased her sweeping and was teetering slightly, as if about to faint.

The next thing Rumpelstiltskin knew, he had blinked to her location and swept her up in his arms.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds longer than needed. Then Belle whispered a "thank you", bringing the Dark One back to reality. He set her on her feet, hands opening and clenching in something he refused to believe was nervousness, and nodded sharply in response to her gratitude.

Then he remembered he was supposed to be cross with her. "Did I not tell you to return to your quarters, girl?" He frowned.

She nodded, her gaze not meeting his.

"Must I escort you there myself to assure you will do so?" She began to answer, but he jerked a hand in front of her face, effectively stopping her. "Of course I must, you stubborn child. Come." He began to stride down the hall in the direction of the dungeon staircase. After a pause, Belle followed some ways behind him.

Rumpelstiltskin was acutely aware of her inquisitive eyes on his back and he tried not to fidget. Curse this girl and her bottomless curiosity.

Belle took in a breath and he braced himself for her questions, but all she did was say, "thank you", albeit a little louder than previously.

Rumpelstiltskin made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a snicker. He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. "No need to repeat yourself, dearie, I may be old but my hearing's as sharp as it ever was."

The aforementioned audial ability picked up on her soft laugh. "I just want you to know I really mean it."

Honestly, his prisoner was an enigma wrapped in an anomaly, with a slight sprinkling of complete oddity. However, her seemingly heartfelt apology caused him to steal a confused glance over his shoulder. She was smiling back at him, that maddening grin which suggested she knew something he did not. Rumpelstiltskin abruptly turned his gaze forward again.

They had come to the stone staircase, but he hesitated. Belle halted next to him, fabric of her shawl lightly brushing his sleeve and blue stare penetrating into his soul. Or lack thereof. "Is there a problem?"

He couldn't place it, but something inside him was repulsed by the idea of sending a sick woman into a dark, dank, unwelcoming place like his dungeon. He simply couldn't bring himself to do so. Almost against his will, he found his voice saying, "Not here. Come." And his feet began to move by themselves, leading her towards his more personal wing of the castle. He imagined this would be what it felt like should anyone steal his dagger to control him.

With no way to change his mind now that he'd offered, Rumpelstiltskin led her to a huge set of oaken doors. Their peak reached nearly to the ceiling, high above their heads, and they were intricately carved with a whole manner of designs. With a flicking motion, Rumpelstiltskin opened the doors and heard Belle let out a little gasp.

The room was as expansive as his entire dungeon, with marble floors and a huge picture window taking up much of the far wall. To their left was a four-post canopy bed wide enough to comfortably hold seven people and half again as long. Opposite the bed was a gigantic stone fireplace taller than Rumpelstiltskin himself.

He motioned to the bed with one hand, striding towards the window at the same time. "Settle in, dearie."

Belle gave him a bemused stare. "I've never been in this room, before."

"Then you obviously haven't been doing your job," Rumpelstiltskin quipped. Then, more seriously, "my estate is larger than it seems." He dared not tell her that he had the ability to create or destroy rooms at will, though he admitted that this one wasn't bad for a split-second job.

"No, I've been up and down that hallway for weeks and I've never seen those doors. And trust me, they're not easy to miss."

Rumpelstiltskin tried to will down the furious heat in his cheeks and didn't turn to look at Belle for fear she'd see it. He busied himself with closing the heavy velvet curtains. "Just lay down before you collapse all over again." He hid a satisfied smirk when he heard the rustling of silken sheets.

As he turned to the fireplace, Belle asked, "Why are you doing all this?"

Rumpelstiltskin lit the kindling with a well-aimed ball of fire before facing his keeper, a light sneer stretching across his mouth. "I can't have my only maid die from hypothermia. It would be such a bother to acquire and train another."

Belle's eyebrows knotted. "Hypothermia?"

Ah, right. Future reference. Ordinary people were so boring. "Never mind. Just... rest."

She settled further into the huge bed, smiling slightly. "I think you're worried about me, Rumpelstiltskin. You're just too scared to admit it."

He scoffed, frowning, and disregarded the leap his heart made. "I'm never worried, dearie. You're just leverage."

"Well, I think you're glad to have me here."

Rumpelstiltskin rather quickly turned his back to her and headed for the doors. "How about you stop thinking and start sleeping."

Even with her voice sounding like she'd just gotten a knife to the throat, Belle called after him, "Thank you again, Rumpelstiltskin. No matter what people say, you're not quite so awful as they believe."

He regarded her with a wave of his hand. "Enjoy your rest, maid. You'll have thrice the amount of work to do when you awaken." And the doors shut behind him with a loud bang.

As Rumpelstiltskin strode back to his spinning room, he had to force the corners of his mouth down. He wasn't smiling. No, not at all. Especially not for some petty rich girl whom he had just happened to decide not to kill. Not smiling.

Had anybody else been in the Dark One's proximity, they would have sworn he was indeed doing just that.

_**END**_


End file.
